Wild Celandine
by Ruiniel
Summary: PWP companion piece to "Paths Afire". Recommend reading that Glorfindel/OC fic before this, for context. Glorfindel POV. Two elves resting on their way to Lothlórien.


**Wild Celandine**

* * *

I feel a wry smile split my face as I calmly wait beside Asfaloth, watching her dismount her own steed. The lessons - through most of which I have acted an unwilling yet dutiful tutor - have finally taken hold. And now she must do this herself, no matter how much I feel the need to ease her struggle. It is difficult, I imagine, leaving all that you know and care for, to transcend into a different dimension of being. And then spend most of your days relearning to live. All of this in a changing body, stripped of all previous habits and any comforts you were accustomed to and once took as a given. I have lived through such myself in times when I would come upon a new world in my search and would have to assume it as my own. But I knew, always, that it would eventually come to an end. To her, this is forever. And I am not as conceited as to not see the personal sacrifice her choice entailed. She is here now, in Arda, for me and for us. And I have sworn many times, and on all else I hold dear that I would do all in my power to keep her safe and fulfilled.

"Yeah, watch and giggle. I'll get you for it later, worry not my lord," my wife grumbles in her language with a grudging smile as she passes me by, her belongings slung over one small shoulder. I would have aided her, but she insists we keep the current customs and social norms, as she calls them, from her world.

"_Not everything__ must change",_ she had said with that flame of a smile when explaining she would prefer it if we acted as we did on Earth. Less chivalry, more common footing, and of course, she carries her own things.

Why would I refuse? If it aids her in keeping alive the memory of the first world she knew, I will do what she asks.

Afternoon sunlight spears through the branches of trees and I feel my eye pierced by a stray, lonesome ray as I follow her with my gaze. My wife. Steel is in her stride, her auburn hair rich and full as an autumn bounty, falling over her travel cloak. I watch her, and no doubt if anyone were to see my face, they would report the traits of the fool in love the young Elrondion twins tell me I have become. I contemplate having to properly humiliate them at sword sparring again to regain some standing and curb their enthusiasm for jibes.

"Fin, are you coming?" my wife turns to look over her shoulder at me, a playful irritation creasing her brow.

I follow grinning and without a word, awaiting the scoff I know surely follows, and so it does though I saw her brimming smile. The shiver running through me when she acts this way makes itself known yet again but is swiftly and successfully smothered by the logical part of my mind. I cannot, should not want her here, on the road and far from Imladris, despite knowing the path in this area is supposedly free of fell activity. And not in this way, though the sway of her hips draws me with the magnetism of planets, and the image of her parted lips as I take her refuses to disperse from my vision.

Once, in the beginnings, after my search finally led me back to her on Earth, Ilvanya called me to her apartment. This woman housing the soul of my wife and life mate wanted more of me, and scarcely could I contain my trepidation though my skill proved useful in doing so. We had not met for a while and I had been caught with an unwanted but necessary journey here. As such I arrived late at an outing she and her friends previously invited me to, and though I knew it would be brief and I would be met with a cloudy stare, I desperately wanted to see her again. I could not tell her the truth about myself and indeed she had no notion of the whirlwind her days would become.

But she wanted me. The feelings showing so clearly on her face were those I recalled as I once looked upon her, gleaming and dancing with the winds above the White Walls of Ondolindë. But now, she was a child of Earth in an age of advancement and so had no qualms with taking the initiative. And when I felt her eyes on me and lifted my gaze, seeing her carelessly propped against the door to her balcony, my longing briefly broke through my carefully crafted mask. And the depth of it flared through my eyes before I could rein it. My chest froze as she came nearer, so bold and alluring and by the Valar I had missed her through those thousands of years, and so I sat there trapped and in grave peril of surrender. I had never been easy to sway when it came to desire before her and never after her. But here she was, my Ilvanya; as fair as I ever remembered her, the light of her resonating with my own though we were no longer bound in life. She looked at me as she did so long ago, in a hidden city on a hill surrounded by dizzying mountains, when we were complete. With great toil did I manage to put an end to it as at that time other things took precedence, and so in employing the full strength of my will, I did what had to be done instead. To this day I wonder how I resisted her.

A feat unachievable now. Now, - and this is only partially owed to our all too fresh and overwhelming bond,- I find myself the willing servant to her bliss and the prisoner of her smile. Though I jest and rile her purposefully more often than not, it is to hide how overpowered I am by her presence, her nearness, her scent, and immeasurably appealing fire. Some things indeed never change, as she once said to me. But perhaps owed to a dark seed of pride, I endeavor and go to great lengths at times to hide the true, shameful extent of what she does to me.

She throws me a pointed look as we settle in the hidden embrace of a little green glade I knew close to the road. "Traveling through time and space there, my lord?" she teases, seeing my light lorn eyes.

Oh but how I would tease _you,_ my lively little one, until you soared above the stars and your mind emptied of all that you know. I refocus my lost gaze and manage a smile as I work to start a small fire, though the weather is late summer and thus forgiving enough.

We share our fare of dried fruit with bread and we drink of the wine Elrohir had so generously offered from his infinite collection.

"Goodness gracious," her mouth forms a tasty little circle as she looks my way wide-eyed, wooden wine cup in hand. "Can never, ever, underestimate elvish wine. Good lord this is exquisite! Elrohir is my new favorite twin," she sips the rest of it. "Be sure to tell Elladan," she grins with mischief. Oh my dear, you may regret this indulgence on the morrow but then I have held your hair before, and in worse circumstances. I find myself smiling as my thought briefly turns to the first night we met on Earth.

Evening has fallen as we unpack for a night's rest under the summer skies on our route to Lothlórien. I am bound there to convene on the recent strange movements in the world, and I could not leave her behind any more than she wanted to stay in Imladris. In a way, I am glad it all passed in this manner. It is a place I wanted her to see, to know, and discover more of our world and the kindreds of her people. We took no host. It is only she and I, leaning on nature's kindness. And it is kind indeed this night. The canopy is free of clouds, and I feel the reverberations of the galaxies and solar circles reaching us from afar, born in their lonesome seats upon the skies.

I could almost drift away into communion as the warmth from the flames slowly licks against my face, and my body softens against the rich hard earth beneath our spread cloaks.

I am returned by the endless Grace, my purpose stays clear, and the reward is great. Indeed more than I had ever hoped for. I hold her tighter against me as my eyes stay locked on the stars, so vivid and lively against the curtain of the Kindler's nightly tresses. Their silver light reaches and straightens my thought, my nerves, infuses the depths of my eyes and center. There is peace.

There is fear.

I open my eyes to feel her struggling against me, her words hissed and cracked, her limbs contorting in strange positions.

"Ilva, it is I," I hold her and try to soothe her with gentle motions, my fingers sifting through the wild strands of her hair. "Ilvanya," I whisper close to her ear when she fails to awaken and thrashes, calling to her with all the care and worry I feel through our bond. Finally, after much trial, she softens against me. Her breathing is quick and shallow as she turns her head to regard me, her hazel depths tired and frightened. I hold her even closer despite myself.

"I... I'm sorry, it was Moria- and then him," she trails away at the last word, lowering her butterfly lashes as she turns her head back to rest on her elbow, coiled deeper into herself. "Just like before."

She has these nightmares still. She says they are nothing but her days following such nightly frights are always strange, and I know she has not forgotten our ordeal through the mines. My wife dreams of us fleeing through Moria where all its halls are burning and then the fire takes me, and Sauron takes her. More or less the same vivid nightmare with slightly different outcomes. She hears his voice in her sleep, warning of no escape. I try to aid her with what I know but the aftermath of trauma is immense, and its tendrils run deep. And so I continue to hold and gently rock her back and forth to calm her battering heart.

She shifts after some time and turns to face me on her side, placing a palm to my face. "I am so happy you're here," she smiles, and in her eyes I see the signs that sleep will elude for tonight. At first, she could not sleep at all. And now that she does, the nightmares do not cease. Though saddened by this fact I meet her smile and tuck a strand of unruly curls behind her pointed ear, gently brushing over its tip with my thumb.

"Fin-" Ilvanya gasps and meets my eyes, and I see her hands come fisted into my travel tunic.

"I got ahead of myself, luv," I tell her in English, knowing it soothes her to hear it. "Rest," I urge her, draping my arm around her waist as I run my bottom lip over the tip of her nose.

"Do it again," I hear the soft and unusually reserved words, and I meet her eyes confusedly. She smiles so shyly it nearly levels me, and tilts the side of her face inward, presenting me with the full sight of her slight and elegant little ear.

"Which part of _rest_ did you not comprehend?" I try reason though inside I burn to glide my tongue over that lovely appendage, and continue over the rest of her. I am at times astonished by these novel primal states of mind and body in her presence, though I recall we have been much this way the first time we married. Eru knows I love and worship her more than even the Guardians and I hope they will look kindly upon this and not resent me for it. But the need to own her is also great, to control her gasps and sighs and have her merge into me forever and a day. It is strong, and I rarely let her see the full extent of it though I know she is pleased immensely when I do.

"Please," she smiles sweetly and reaches around my neck, hazel eyes following the quiver of my lips as her fingers curl gently into my hair, pulling with just enough pressure as to diminish my resolve; "It'll help me rest," Ilvanya adds, and that fiendish smile widens at my strangled sigh.

I am somewhat disconcerted at the effect her touch has on me. "You know not what you ask for, wife," I tease a little too darkly, unsure whether she is in a state to withstand the full throes of our need for each other. My hand draws soothing motions across her back as Ilvanya comes flush against me, our legs tangling together. I am once again drifting on her fresh scent, the fragrance of her hair reminiscent of wild celandine.

I long for her to pant my name.

Her fine little hand reaches and languidly touches my face, even as my own fingers tentatively and with slow movement feel the slight shell of her ear. Sheer diaphanous veins line the inner surface and I see her silently mouth a sigh of contentment. I continue to gaze at her changing expression as my finger follows along the tip of her ear and she suddenly clutches at my arm.

And then, as it oft tends to happen, her lead unleashes me. I swiftly angle my head and take the pointed tip between my lips, flicking over it with my tongue; I feel her breath catch; then again, slower, and she strains against me; and one last time I nibble just as she turns her head and offers me her mouth.

The lush taste of her is light and filling, the silk of her lips against mine the sweetest torment as we unhurriedly shift, and it is not long before she softly moans into my mouth. I tilt my head to deepen the kiss, suckling on her tongue and falling prey to hers while I turn her over and trap her beneath me.

"Ilva," I whisper, my heart thundering in my breast against hers. I look into her eyes and see the desire I had awoken, and she is smiling now thank the Valar, and she begins to writhe against me. I want to ask if this is truly what she needs now, knowing I cannot rein myself any more than she, and our moments of rapture tend to carry for a long while. Our lovemaking tends to overflow and reach heights unsought for, leaving us slick and fulfilled but tired to face the day more often than not.

But she rises on her elbows as I allow her more space, and one arm comes around my neck as she straightens, and leans in. I feel her lovely nose pressing to the side of my neck when she inhales me.

"Gods, you taste so sweet," Ilvanya coos as her lips glide along my neck and I grin, recalling a few quite pleasurable situations where she had said the same.

My arms come around her and I bring her fully into my lap as she unhurriedly unclasps my tunic, finding purchase against the planes of my chest. I mirror her movements earnestly, and I know she can see it all reflected in my eyes. Who am I attempting to deceive? She knows, very, very well what she does to me. Grinning she presses against my hips as I lift her arms to remove her shirt. "Tz, you too, Blondie," she whispers and I hastily do the same.

She gapes at me. "I will never get over how perfect you are," says Ilvanya in that endearing husky tone I have come to know during our pursuits.

"We have forever," I tell her, wanting to guide her down onto the floor. But she resists.

"No, you tonight," she says and her palms push against me, leading me down onto my back. And so I lie there defeated, my hair fanned about me amid dry leaves and grass.

She daintily straddles me, still wearing her leggings and I pull at their lacings even as she playfully swats my hand away, coming to prop her arms on either side of my head. "I want to taste," and those words together with the dastardly way she bites her lip completely undo me. She feels it. She feels me become steel beneath her and so thoroughly enjoys it, the little vixen, tilting her hips back and forth until I must steady her.

"Slow," I say, sounding more demanding than I would like but she has weakened me again, and I must know I have at least one shred of control.

Ilvanya says nothing, the smile gone, replaced by something else as she aids in sliding off my soft boots. I feel her, warm against my knees before her searching hands reach for my abdomen, feeling every rippling indentation. They cease on the sides of my hips, pulling the material of my fitted trousers down just above my straining hardness.

She looks me in the eye and grins devilishly, all else forgotten. I rise propped on my elbows watching her, to at least give the impression of equal ground. Of course I am a fool, for there is no such thing. Not with her. Even when I possess her wildly I am still hers to do with as she pleases. This fact I have known in a different Age during our times in Ondolindë, and it remains unchanged.

I tilt my head back and bite my lip so hard I pierce the skin as she releases me, and soon her touch is all that I know. She watches me, enjoying my abandonment and panting chest as her hand feels me in even motions. I cannot help the primal need at her torment and so my hips come forward, craving the complete sweet warmth of her.

"I must have you," I shrill between her neverending games, gasping as she applies more agonizing pressure.

"Not yet," she whispers in kind and I release a pained sigh, closing my eyes for the briefest of moments.

The greatest mistake. For now the shivers of the universe fill my deepest center and an unwieldy moan escapes me, and I look to see her tongue playfully teasing me. The sight is always harrowing and enticing in the worst of ways, leading me down a worrying spiral of darkened things I would do to her.

"I said I would get you later," she whispers evilly before one long, drawn-out suckle, flinging me into the endless depths of mindless pleasure. "Tell me how you want it," she speaks again between licks before the delicious warmth of her lips surrounds me again. I part my mouth and look to her with my lost gaze, long drowned in abject desire, utterly subdued by her power though she asks me what to do.

"Faster," I manage, and she follows with no restraint, taking my length into her mouth with measured and maddening pressure.

My eyes roll to the back of my head and I can hardly breathe for the lightning surging through me, my hand reaching of its own volition to take a fistful of her hair as I force her to cease, bringing my hips upward and holding her there for a few good moments. I feel her inside, the soft silkiness of her tongue, her mouth, her neck, in this most intimate expression of need and trust.

I pull on her hair and swiftly rise to meld my mouth to hers, tasting her deeply even as she tries to pull away. "No-, not yet-" she laughs.

"Oh yes-," I hiss as my hands divest her of her lower layers, revealing her lovely legs, her thighs, her auburn triangle.

I order her shoulders down until she lies on her back, struggling and grinning only to give me grief, and for a mere moment, I regret using my strength on her. But it lasts little with the ensuing shiver of her body as I hold her to me.

"Open to me, luv," I mock order in English as I hover above her, frowning when she shakes her head.

So this is how it will be tonight. Smirking, I apply mild pressure yet again though she weakly squirms, and I easily part her legs with one hand, placing it flat on the small tuft of hair between her thighs. I feel her shiver, more intense, calling-

But she will not have her way, yet. In a movement faster than she can object I draw her hips to me, and delve between her thighs. Her sharp wail resounds through the glade with the feel of my tongue against her center, slow and light and prying. I find and tease the place I know takes her breath away, holding her hips steady as she squirms. It is not long before she gasps my name, broken by pleasure, and I feel her hand grasping my hair, her hips tilting to me so I can take all of her. I can never tire of this, her taste so pleasing and it is hard to cease, even when she contorts and writhes, and I feel her peaking against me. Smiling I play with her, slower now, until one last time I suckle on her before my kiss begins a trail upward, over her abdomen, and up the rest of her.

Looking upon her face I see her lips swollen and red from the bites she subjected them to. I kiss her without haste; the night is still young as I hold her to me, her arms winding around my neck.

"My golden warrior... is not too shabby with his tongue," she deadpans dreamily as I kiss her forehead, ever thankful for her in my life. My companion, my friend, my lover.

"And all yours," I reply in kind and we regard each other, and I feel the entreaty of her hips against mine.

"Now," she calls lazily.

Sighing and smiling, I cannot but obey.


End file.
